


A Tale of Two Cities

by scgirl_317



Category: Law & Order: UK, NCIS
Genre: Drama, Espionage, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-02
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 07:26:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1028897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scgirl_317/pseuds/scgirl_317
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An American living in London is killed, and her brother—a US Navy lieutenant—is the chief suspect. DS Ronnie Brooks and Matt Devlin head to Washington, DC, where he returned after visiting his sister. When they get there, however, they find themselves going up against NCIS Agent Jethro Gibbs and his team, who are investigating the lieutenant’s murder. They soon find that the two cases are entwined, and both teams must work together, or else a killer will go free.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“You hear about things like this happening, but you never expect it to happen in the flat next door,” the woman said, earning a sympathetic look from Matt Devlin.

The Detective Sergeant looked down at the notes in his hand. He and his partner, DS Ronnie Brooks, had been called to the apartment of an American woman who was a physics professor at University College. Her upstairs neighbor had complained to the building caretaker of a smell coming from below, unaware that her neighbor had been dead for days.

“How well did you know Amy Collins?” Matt asked.

“Not as well as I would have liked, looking back on it. She preferred to work from home whenever she could, said there were fewer distractions. She’s hardly left her flat since classes ended. She’s incredibly smart, but she could be a bit scatterbrained, so I would check on her every few days. She could get on these tangents when she was working, sometimes she’d forget to eat. When I started to smell something drifting up, I just assumed she’d forgotten to empty her bin again. The poor girl.”

“Do you know if she was seeing anyone?” asked Ronnie.

“I’ve lived above her for almost two years, and I’ve never seen anyone come here. Her brother came to visit, last week. That’s it.”

“All right, well, thank you. We’ll let you know if we need anything else,” Matt assured her.

“Amy was a sweet girl. Find whoever did this.”

With a nod, Matt and Ronnie left the hallway and entered the apartment that had been cordoned off. In the middle of the living room floor laid Amy Collins, a single bullet wound between the eyes the only blemish on her otherwise perfect face.

“Almost seems execution style,” Ronnie remarked.

“We found the bullet embedded in the wall over there,” pointed out Joy Ackroyd, dressed in the blue jumpsuit that was standard among the crime scene technicians. She handed the bullet to Ronnie in a small plastic bag. “It’s a bit mangled, but it’s a nine millimeter, so probably from a handgun. Teddy can tell you better than I can.”

“All right, thanks, Joy,” Ronnie replied, looking from the recovered bullet to the body before him.

“So, what is an American professor involved in that would get her killed like this?” Matt asked to no one in particular.

One thing was for sure. This case could get very ugly very fast.

* * *

Back at the Major Investigations Unit office, Matt and Ronnie sat at their desks surrounded by files containing profiles and bios.

“What have you got, boys?” DI Natalie Chandler asked, walking up to the two.

“We’ve got a whole lot, I’m just not sure how much of it is useful,” Ronnie muttered.

“Amy Collins has lived here for three years,” Matt supplied. “She’s got a laundry list of degrees, including three PhD’s, and an IQ that borders on savant. She taught at MIT for five years before she was invited to teach at UCL. The only family she has is a twin brother, Adam, who still lives in the States. Their parents died fifteen years ago in a car crash.”

“According to the neighbor, Adam was just here on a visit,” Ronnie added as Matt answered his phone. “Manages to get over once or twice a year. Apparently that’s the only anomaly, recently.”

“Okay, thanks,” Matt told the caller, hanging up and turning back to the others. “According to the medical examiner, Amy was dead for about four days before her neighbor noticed the smell. Adam returned home the same day.”

“Could be a coincidence,” Natalie pointed out, not convinced, but she knew that grin on Matt’s face and knew he had more.

“Could be,” he admitted. “Forensics confirmed that the bullet that killed Amy was a nine millimeter round, most likely fired from a Beretta M9.”

“What are you getting at, Matt?” Ronnie asked, knowing his partner hadn’t shown all of his cards yet.

“Adam is a lieutenant in the US Navy. Guess what make his service weapon is?”

And there it was. That explained the cat-that-got-the-canary look on Devlin’s face. That still didn’t solve all of their problems.

“But we’re still left without a motive,” Natalie noted.

“I tracked him after he left Amy’s flat. His flight left Heathrow and landed at Dulles International Airport in Washington, DC, where he works at the Navy Yard. I’ve got his address in Maryland.”

“You two need to tread carefully with this one,” Natalie cautioned them. “The Home Secretary’s breathing down my neck to make sure this doesn’t become an international incident. He’s assured the American Embassy that we can handle the investigation, but there’s no telling how long that will hold them off.”

“Let me go to Washington, talk to Adam,” Matt pressed. “If it wasn’t him—and that’s a big ‘if’—then maybe he knows something that could help us.”

Natalie narrowed her eyes at the young detective. He could be very passionate, and if she let him go alone, there could very well be an international incident.

“Both of you go,” she said. “If you don’t come up with anything in two days, you’re to come back, understood?”

“Yes, Gov,” Matt and Ronnie replied simultaneously, knowing she’d have both their hides if they argued.

“Well, Matty,” began Ronnie once Natalie had walked away, “grab your passport. Looks like we’re going on a little adventure.”

* * *

“I’m just saying, it’s not natural,” Tony Dinozzo argued as he exited the elevator with his teammates.

“What is so wrong with it?” Ziva David countered, following Tony through the bullpen to their desks. “I think it’s good that McGee wants to take care of himself and look good.”

“Thank you, Ziva,” Timothy McGee replied, exasperated at Tony’s lack of progressiveness.

“Hey, I’m all for looking good,” Tony shot back, “but I draw the line at facials. It’s just not right. Guys aren’t supposed to get facials.”

“Lots of guys get facials, Tony. Some even go as far as getting manicures,” McGee replied, grinning as his partner shuddered at the thought.

“Grab your gear,” called out their boss, the indomitable Leroy Jethro Gibbs, appearing out of nowhere as he was wont to do. “Got a dead lieutenant in Shipley.”

The three NCIS agents grabbed their bags and turned back the way they came, following their boss.

They left the Navy Yard and crossed the river into the residential area of Shipley. The house had been blocked off by Metro PD and the NCIS medical examiner’s van was parked out front, indicating Dr. “Ducky” Mallard and Jimmy Palmer were already there.

“Lieutenant Adam Collins was found this morning by his roommate, Marine Major Michael Harper,” Gibbs told them.

He offered no more information, but he didn’t need to; his team knew what they needed to do. McGee went for Collins’ computer, Ziva went in search of the roommate, and Tony followed Gibbs toward the body and began taking photos.

“Whatcha got, Duck?” Gibbs asked the ME kneeling over the body.

“Well, cause of death looks fairly obvious,” Ducky replied, pointing to the single gunshot wound between Collins’ eyes. “Rigor has had time to release, so I would say this poor fellow’s been dead for approximately two days.”

“How did his roommate not notice a dead body in the living room for two days?” Tony asked, pausing from capturing the scene.

“Major Harper is stationed at the Pentagon,” Ziva supplied, joining them. “He spent all weekend at work, hasn’t been home since Saturday morning.”

“Must be a job requirement at the Pentagon,” Tony mused. “‘Must be workaholic.’”

“Ziva?” Gibbs looked at her, noting she stood closer to Tony than he did.

“Of course,” she replied, understanding his request.

She reached over and slapped the back of Tony’s head.

“Hey!”

“Shut up, DiNozzo,” Gibbs ordered.

“Yes, boss,” Tony replied, somewhat akin to a child who had been caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

Ducky chuckled, shaking his head. They certainly were an unorthodox bunch he worked with, but he had to admit he enjoyed it. They may act like squabbling kids sometimes, but they were good at what they did.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony, Ziva, and Gibbs were back at their desks, looking up everything they could on Lieutenant Adam Collins. McGee was down in the forensics lab, looking to see what he could find on Collins’ computer. It was unusually quiet until Gibbs’ phone rang.

“Yeah, Gibbs… Send them up.”

Tony and Ziva shared a look at the short, cryptic conversation.

“Something up, boss?” Tony asked.

“Not sure,” was all the answer they got before the elevator doors opened, revealing two men accompanied by an NCIS escort.

Tony perked up when he saw them. He could spot a cop a mile away, and these guys had it written all over them, from their shoes to their haircuts. The only questions that remained were where were they from, and why were they there? The elder of the two soon answered the first question.

“Special Agent Gibbs?” he asked, his British accent causing both his and Ziva’s eyebrows to shoot upwards.

“Yeah?” Gibbs replied, standing and stepping out from behind his desk.

“Detective Sergeant Ronnie Brooks, CID,” he said as he and his partner revealed their ID’s. “This is my partner, DS Matt Devlin. We were told you’re the person to speak to regarding Adam Collins.”

“What do you want with Lieutenant Collins?” Gibbs asked, his natural suspicion rising to the surface.

“He’s our main suspect in a murder investigation,” Matt answered. “His sister was shot in her London flat a week ago.”

“What makes you think he’s involved?”

“He returned from visiting her the same day she was killed,” Ronnie answered. “Also, the caliber bullet used to kill her matches his service weapon.”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” Ziva interjected.

“I admit, it is all circumstantial,” Matt ceded. “That’s why we want to talk to him, see if he knows anything that can help us.”

“He’s not gonna be much help now,” Tony muttered.

Matt and Ronnie looked confusedly from Tony to Gibbs.

“Lieutenant Collins was killed two days ago,” Gibbs answered, cut off by his phone ringing. “Yeah, Gibbs… On my way.”

Without another word, Gibbs turned and walked away, back towards the lab. Matt and Ronnie looked at each other, unsure what to do.

“Does he always just walk away like that?” Matt asked.

“Pretty much,” Tony grinned, standing from his desk. “Special Agent Tony DiNozzo, this is Special Agent Ziva David.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Matt replied lamely.

“He should be back in a few minutes, if you’d like some coffee?” Ziva offered, standing as well.

“Got any tea?” Ronnie asked, making Matt suppress a grin.

“I’m sure Ducky’s got some stashed somewhere,” Tony said, looking at Ziva.

* * *

“What’ve ya got, Abbs?” Gibbs asked, raising his voice above the music as he walked into her lab.

“What haven’t we got?” Abby Sciuto replied, looking over at McGee, who was sharing her workspace to examine Collins’ computer. “The bullet that killed Lieutenant Collins was a nine millimeter round. Striations match those from a Beretta M9. Coincidentally, that’s the same make as Collins’ service pistol.”

“But it’s not from his gun?” Gibbs clarified.

“Nope,” the perky goth grinned. “I compared it to a round I fired from his gun, just to be sure. Apparently, Lieutenant Collins’ gun has a small defect at the base of the barrel that affects the striations.” She turned back to her computer and pulled up two images of fired rounds. “See the one on the left? That’s the round that killed the lieutenant. The one on the right is the round from his gun. See that groove on the end of the bullet? I fired three rounds, just to be sure, but all three bullets have the same mark. The bullet that killed Lieutenant Collins was definitely not fired from his gun.”

“Boss, there’s more,” McGee added. “I found several emails Collins sent to his sister in the days before he was killed. The first few seem normal enough, but the fourth email sounds like he was starting to get concerned. ‘Amy, where are you? You haven’t replied to my emails and you’re not answering your phone. I just need to know you’re okay. Talk to me, please.’ There’s about a dozen more along those lines, and I’ve checked his phone records. He called her twenty times in two days, each call lasted no more than thirty seconds.”

“Sounds like he was pretty freaked about something,” Abby noted. “And those calls weren’t cheap. His sister-”

“Lived in London,” Gibbs finished. “She was killed last week.”

“Yeah,” McGee replied, confused but not bothering to ask how he knew; Gibbs always knew everything.

“Get the forensics from CID on Amy Collins’ murder. Good work,” Gibbs said before turning and leaving, the brooding look on his face a definite indicator that there was more that he knew, and it was only a matter of time before they heard about it.

Gibbs stalked back up to the bullpen. It was bad enough when Metro or the FBI horned in on his cases. He didn’t need British police on his heels. He knew there had to be a connection between the cases. It was too much of a coincidence—something Gibbs didn’t believe in—that Lieutenant turned up dead days after his sister was killed, and the emails were evidence that he had been spooked about something.

When he got back to the bullpen, Ronnie and Matt were nowhere to be seen, but the looks on Tony and Ziva’s faces were enough to let him know that whatever was going on, he wasn’t going to like it.

“Agent Gibbs,” called a voice from above, and Gibbs turned around to see the Director giving him one of _those_ looks.

Narrowing his eyes at Leon Vance, Gibbs followed his boss up to the latter’s office. There sat the two Brits, both looking slightly uncomfortable. Scared even, in Matt’s case.

“I just got off a conference call with the British consulate and CID headquarters in London,” Vance began as he sat behind his desk. “I assured both of them that NCIS would do whatever it could to aid the CID in their investigation into Amy Collins’ death.”

_Of course he did_ , Gibbs thought, scowling at the thought of the British “coppers” crawling around his office.

“I trust that won’t be a problem?” Vance finished, giving Gibbs another pointed look.

“No, no problem,” Gibbs replied in a voice that any unused to him might believe he was telling the truth. “That all?”

“That’s all,” replied Vance, warily eyeing Gibbs.

Unsure as to what they had just seen, Matt and Ronnie followed Gibbs out of Vance’s office and to the bullpen.

“We should probably start by comparing the forensics from our scene and yours,” Matt started cautiously.

“Already on it,” Gibbs said over his shoulder as he returned to his desk. “Status,” he called out to Tony and Ziva.

“Lieutenant Adam Collins,” Tony began, pulling Collins’ military ID photo up on the screen. “The guy’s record is impeccable: graduated top of his class at Annapolis, posted on the _Guadalcanal_ for four years as a communications officer, then reassed (huh?) to the Navy Yard and been there ever since. According to his CO, the only thing to complain about is a case of OCD, but that Collins managed to channel that into his work, and he was an exceptional officer.”

“He and his roommate, Major Harper, had been best friends since grade school, and decided to room together when they were both posted to D.C.,” Ziva continued. “Collins would go out when pressed, but would usually rather stay in or work late. Harper said that Collins seemed most comfortable when it was just the two of them, or when he was around his sister. She got the offer to teach in London not long after he was posted to the Navy Yard, and it definitely upset him, but Harper said he managed to get over it and move on. He’d scrape pennies together to pay for trips to London when he got leave.”

“Parents?” Gibbs asked.

“They died in a car crash fifteen years ago,” Matt spoke up, causing the three NCIS agents to turn and look at them, having forgotten they were there.

“What do you know?” Gibbs asked, staring them down.

“Adam Collins left London last Monday,” Ronnie stated. “According to our medical examiner, his sister was killed the same day. The bullet that killed her was fired from a Beretta M9, the same model as Lieutenant Collins’ service weapon. That’s why we wanted to talk to him.”

“Except that Lieutenant Collins was also killed with a Beretta M9,” Gibbs pointed out.

“Boss, you’re gonna want to see this,” McGee said, entering the bullpen and pulling a new image up on the screen. “I found an encrypted drive on Collins’ computer. This guy definitely knew what he was doing. I doubt I would have found it if I hadn’t been looking; he had it disguised as a backup memory drive. Once I got in, I found this.”

McGee pointed to the display, an array of alphanumeric codes that meant very little to anyone else.

“What am I looking at?” Gibbs asked.

“The first column is a list of encrypted coordinates and dates. The second column is account numbers and payment amounts.”

“Collins was selling military information?” Ziva asked.

“Not Collins,” McGee corrected. “‘M.D.’ Collins monitored the computer network in the Navy Yard. About a year ago, he noticed a series of unauthorized entries to the network, accessing classified information. He kept track of the entries, tracking each one until he found out who it was. He kept detailed notes of his investigation encoded on the drive with this list. He couldn’t work too fast, or he’d risk tipping off the culprit. With what he has here, a conviction would have been a sure thing. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say it was what got him killed.”

“So, who’s M.D.?” Gibbs asked.

“Martin Doral.”

“Wait, _Commander_ Martin Doral? Collins’ CO?” Tony exclaimed.

“So Adam finds out his boss is selling military secrets. His boss finds out his little side job’s been discovered, so he kills Adam to keep it a secret,” Ronnie summed up.

“But what about Amy?” asked Matt. “Where does she fit in all of this?”

“Major Harper said that Adam and Amy were extremely close,” Ziva said. “If Adam told anyone about his investigation, it would have been her. Doral could have had her killed to keep her from saying anything.”

“DiNozzo, you and Devlin go talk to Doral,” Gibbs said. “See if he knows anything about this.”

“Sound him out, got it, boss,” Tony replied, grabbing his badge and gun from his desk drawer.

“Doral’s at the Pentagon, today,” McGee said as Tony and Matt turned to leave the bullpen. “He’s in meetings with the SecNav.”

“Come on Devlin. I’ll give you the dime tour of D.C.”

Gibbs returned to his desk as the two made their way to the elevator.

“Ziva, take Brooks and go talk to Major Harper. See what he knows of this.”

“Of course, Gibbs,” she said, and she and Ronnie followed after Tony and Matt.

* * *

The clerk showed Tony and Matt into what turned out to be a rather imposing conference room, dark finishes on all of the furniture creating a feeling of being closed in. Commander Martin Doral stood by one of the large leather chairs that surrounded the conference table.

“Special Agent Tony DiNozzo, NCIS,” Tony introduced himself. “This is Detective Sergeant Matt Devlin, CID. We’d like to ask you some questions about Lieutenant Adam Collins.”

“We were all shocked to hear he’d been killed,” Doral said as the two took seats opposite him. “He’s one of the best officers I’ve served with. I don’t know if it’s possible to find someone to replace him.”

“He was good at what he did,” Tony concluded.

“He was more than good,” Doral corrected. “He was the best. He had everything so organized, he could tell if even the smallest thing was off. If someone spent longer on the network than they should have or used their computer to look at porn, he knew.”

“Can you think of any reason anyone would want to kill him?” Matt asked.

“No. Lieutenant Collins kept to himself, but everyone liked him. He got along well with everyone here.”

He appeared honest, but years of detective work had taught Tony familiarity with the glint of a well-practiced liar. Matt saw it as well, and was about to speak, but Tony interrupted him.

“All right, well, thank you, Commander. If there’s anything else, we’ll let you know.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help,” Doral replied as the two stood to leave.

“What was that?” Matt hissed, once they were out of the building. “He was lying through his teeth.”

“No kidding,” Tony retorted. “Gibbs orders were not to spook him. He knows exactly what happened to Lieutenant Collins, and I’ll bet you dollars to doughnuts he knows about Amy Collins.”

Matt gritted his teeth in frustration as he got in the car. He wasn’t used to having someone cut him off like that.

“So now what?” he asked, once Tony had started the car.

“We watch him,” Tony stated plainly. “Doral knows we’re snooping around through Collins’ records. He’ll make a move to cover his tracks, and we’ll be there to catch him when he does.”

They drove in silence for a while, Tony annoyed with Matt for being too eager and Matt frustrated with Tony for not doing enough to catch Doral.

As Tony came to an intersection, a screech of rubber on asphalt was the only warning they had before another vehicle slammed into the passenger side. The car was pushed half a block down the cross-street before both vehicles came to a rest. Tony caught a glimpse of Matt past the deployed airbags. Before he blacked out, he managed a thought that there was a dangerous amount of blood.


	3. Chapter 3

Dr. Aaron Peters was about to finish his shift in DC General Hospital’s ER. It had been quiet all day, and he was hoping it would last the last half hour. That was not to be, however, as paramedics radioed in the imminent arrival of two car crash victims. He listened to the noted injuries, and set the nurses to work.

It was minutes before the paramedics arrived, rolling two gurneys swiftly into the triage area.

“First subject is Anthony DiNozzo,” one of the paramedic stated. “Age 43. BP’s 140 over 90. Numerous lacerations, possible broken ribs and concussion.”

“All right, get him cleaned up, and I want a scan of his chest and an MRI, just to be sure,” Peters directed before turning his attention to the second patient.

“Matt Devlin, 38. BP’s 90 over 60. Deep laceration across the chest, internal bleeding, went into v-fib on the way in.”

“Let’s get him stabilized, then I want him in the first available OR.”

Peters worked in synch with the nurses to stabilize the young man enough for surgery. He was in bad shape, but they managed to bring his blood pressure up and regulate his heart rate enough to risk surgery.

While the nurses prepped Matt for surgery, Peters checked in on Tony. Sure enough, he had a moderate concussion and three cracked ribs. He decided that it would be best to keep DiNozzo overnight for observation. Satisfied that Tony was in good hands, Peters made his way out to the intake desk.

“Kelly, has anyone called their emergency contacts?” he asked the nurse manning the desk.

“Just got off the phone,” replied Kelly. “Anthony DiNozzo is an NCIS agent, I spoke with his boss. Matt Devlin is a British CID detective working with NCIS on a murder investigation. NCIS is alerting his partner.”

“Good. Someone will be here soon, so update them on DiNozzo. I need to get back to Devlin.”

“Good luck in there,” Kelly offered as Peters turned back towards the OR.

Sure enough, less than thirty minutes had passed before the doors to the ER opened to allow entrance to a dark haired woman in her thirties and another man about ten years older, both looking somewhat harried.

“I’m looking for Anthony DiNozzo,” Ziva said, trying to keep her voice even.

“And Matt Devlin,” Ronnie added.

“Agent DiNozzo has a concussion and several cracked ribs,” Kelly replied. “Dr. Peters is keeping him overnight for observation. Detective Devlin’s still in surgery.”

“Surgery?” Ronnie asked, trying not to panic.

“I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you, right now,” Kelly replied, apologetically. “Agent DiNozzo is in ward 3, if you’d like to check on him. I can have Dr. Peters meet you there when he gets out of surgery, if you want?”

“Come one, Ronnie, there’s nothing we can do, right now,” Ziva said, placing her hand on Ronnie’s arm.

“You go ahead,” he told her, taking a step back. “I’m gonna call our boss, let her know what’s happened.”

“It’s one a.m. in London,” she softly reminded him. “Wait a few hours, until we know something, then make the call. Come on.”

Ronnie realized she had a point, and allowed himself to be led down the hall. When they got to Tony’s bed, he was surprised at what he saw. The nurse had said that Tony was the better off of the two injured detectives. If that was the case, Ronnie feared how he might find Matt.

Tony lay in the bed, numerous small cuts on his face and arms. Several of the larger cuts had stitches. Both eyes were turning black, bruising from impact with the airbag. An IV dripped Demerol into his system. He managed to open his eyes when he heard the curtain around his bed being pulled back, and the first thing he saw was…

“Ziva.”

“Tony,” she began, trying to keep her voice steady. This must have been something like how he looked when he had the plague; thankfully, that was before her time. It unsettled her to see him so subdued, someone who was usually so boisterous.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said with a small smile. “I’ll be up and at ‘em in no time.”

“I think you’d probably take it easy for at least a couple days,” Ziva told him. “Can’t have you injuring yourself further if you have to chase down any suspects.”

“You just want the chance to tackle the bad guys, for once,” he replied cheekily. He looked past Ziva and saw Ronnie standing a few feet behind her. “Where’s Devlin?”

“He’s in surgery,” Ronnie said, speaking up finally. “They won’t tell us anything more.”

“What happened?” Ziva asked.

Tony tried to sit up straighter, wincing at the movement. Ziva pulled the pillow up to allow Tony to sit at a higher angle.

“We were coming back from talking to Doral,” he said slowly. “The guy was lying through his teeth. Devlin wanted to go after him, but I cut him off, told him it was better if we waited.” He shook his head as if trying to clear out cobwebs in his mind. “There was the screech of tires, a crash. Got hit on Devlin’s side. That’s all I remember.”

“You got hit by a car right after talking to Doral?” Ziva clarified.

“That can’t be a coincidence,” Ronnie mentioned.

“Gibbs doesn’t believe in coincidences,” Tony said, the painkillers slowing his mind.

“I’ll call McGee, have him go over the accident report and traffic cam footage,” Ziva said, slipping into work mode and glad for a distraction.

As Ziva walked outside to make the call, Ronnie sat in the chair set by the bed. Tony could see the concern in the older man’s features, and it occurred to him that it was merely dumb luck that it wasn’t himself in Devlin’s place. Had they been hit on the driver’s side, their roles could easily be switched. He felt relief that he had managed to only sustain the injuries he had, and that made him feel guilty.

“How long have you worked with Devlin?” He asked, looking for something to keep his mind off of that train of thought.

“Uh, about five years,” Ronnie replied.

Tony kept plying Ronnie for information about Matt in attempt to keep both of their minds occupied and off of the current situation. Ziva came back a little while later, and she began supplying stories of previous NCIS cases, highlighting Tony’s less glamorous moments. They kept it up until Tony drifted off, the painkillers finally overcoming his desire to stay awake.

It was well after midnight when Dr. Peters found them. What he saw made him smile. Ziva was asleep on the bed with Tony—seeing as Ronnie occupied the only chair—and at some point, Tony had wrapped his arm around her. The stress of earlier in the evening was absent in their sleeping faces.

Peters considered letting them sleep, knowing they all could probably use it. With a nod, he quietly backed away. It would be another hour before Devlin was moved from recovery to the ICU where they would be able to see him. Peters would come back then.

* * *

Tony awoke to feel a warm body pressed up against his—not something he was unused to—but he didn’t think he was in his bed. The smell of disinfectant and the quiet drone of people passing by prompted him to open his eyes, and the sights of the hospital ER brought with them the memories of the previous evening. He saw Ronnie stretched out as best he could in the hospital chair, then looked back to his side and saw that Ziva was curled up against him. He only had a moment to consider this before he heard a soft cough from the edge of the curtain.

“Sleep well?” Dr. Peters asked, coming to check Tony’s stats.

“I can’t believe I slept at all,” Tony replied, the fog of sleep pulling back from his mind. “What time is it?”

“Close to 0200,” the doctor replied, and smiled at Tony’s momentary confusion at his use of military time. “We’re the closest hospital to the Pentagon, so we get a lot of police and MP’s. Military time helps when working in a round-the-clock environment, helps to not have to deal with AM or PM.”

Tony nodded, accepting this, then remembered Matt, “Wait, what about Devlin?”

“Detective Devlin should fully recover,” Peters said with a small smile. “It’ll be a bit before he’s up and around again, though. We moved him to the ICU about an hour ago.”

Tony sighed in relief, glad that Matt had made it, though the guilt still nagged at him. Peters could see something was bothering him, and figured it had something to do with the accident, but let it drop. He was in no shape to do any kind of psychological counseling, as tired as he was, and Tony clearly had friends who cared about him, who he would open up to.

“I’m checking out for the night, but the charge nurse on duty will be here until 0600. Let her know if you need anything. I’ll have your discharge papers ready by noon, provided everything keeps looking good.”

“Got it,” Tony replied, leaning back into the pillow.

With a nod, Peters left Tony alone to his thoughts. Tony grimaced as Ziva shifted closer, putting pressure on his injured ribs. As gently as he could, he tried to pry her away, but she only held on tighter. He realized he was going to have to wake her up.

“Ziva,” he said softly, turning his head so he spoke right in her ear. She mumbled softly but didn’t rouse, so he tried again. “Ziva, Zi, wake up.”

This time her eyes blinked open. She looked up and met Tony’s eyes, their faces mere inches apart. It took a moment for their proximity to register, but once it did she pulled back, hoping the warmth she felt crawling up her neck was not too revealing. Yes, she found him attractive, but this was _Tony_. She couldn’t possibly feel anything for him… could she? She was saved from further reflection as Ronnie awoke.

“Hmm, what time is it?” he asked, groggily.

“About two,” Tony replied. “Hey, Devlin made it out of surgery okay. He’s gonna be laid up for a bit, but he should be okay. He’s up in the ICU, now.”

Ronnie was wide awake at hearing that.

“I’d better go check on him, then.”

Ronnie scurried up to see his friend, and Ziva took his vacant seat. Silence stretched between her and Tony. She could see a glimmer of something behind his eyes, something she had seen before. It was a haunted look, though she was at a loss as to what had brought it on. She could only hope that it would pass.

* * *

Ronnie followed the signs to the ICU, finally reaching the nurses’ desk where he was told which room was Matt’s. The state he found his young friend in was a shock to say the least.

Matt’s right arm was in a cast, propped up at an angle from the bed. There was a multitude of wires and tubes going to and from his body. His face was in worse shape than Tony’s, swelling in addition to the bruises and cuts. Not the least of everything was the pipe going down Matt’s throat from the ventilator.

“Matty,” Ronnie quietly said as he sat in the chair by the bed. “What’d you have to go and get laid up for, lad? Just be glad Alesha won’t get to see you like this.”

Ronnie sat there for close to an hour, until the night doctor came by on her rounds. When she finished checking on Matt, he asked her about his condition.

“I’m not gonna lie to you, he’s in rough shape,” she stated. “There was severe internal bleeding. He has multiple broken ribs, a fractured collar bone and ulna, and a massive concussion. One of the ribs punctured his right lung, hence the ventilator. We’re keeping him sedated for now to let his body rest, but we’ll be weaning him off of those in the next few hours. Once he wakes up, we’ll see about taking the ventilator out. On the plus side, he’s young and in good physical shape, so he should make a full recovery. If you’ll excuse me.”

She smiled and walked out, continuing on to her other patients. Ronnie felt some of the apprehension lift at her words, but he would feel even better when Matt was awake. He knew there was nothing he could do right then, so he walked out to call Natalie.

His boss answered on the second ring, “Chandler.”

“Gov, it’s Brooks,” he said.

“Ronnie, how’s it going, over there?” she asked, and he recognized the chatter in the background as the CPS office.

“It’s a lot more complicated than we originally thought. Her brother was killed, last weekend. Turns out, Lieutenant Collins’ boss was selling U.S. military secrets and Collins found out. It’s what got him and his sister killed.”

“I got a call from director Leon Vance at NCIS, yesterday. You boys playing nice?” she asked, her smile obvious in her voice.

“Well, the lead agent on the case doesn’t seem to be too pleased with us here, but we’re getting on all right. Listen, Gov, there’s something I need to tell you. Matt’s been injured.”

Natalie instantly hushed the people on her end and returned her attention to Ronnie, “What happened?”

“He went with one of the NCIS agents to question Lieutenant Collins’ boss. On the way back, their car was hit on Matt’s side. The other agent is pretty banged up, but he’s being discharged later this morning. Our boy’s not quite so lucky.”

“How is he, Ronnie?” she asked softly.

“He’s in bad shape, but the doctors say he should be able to make a full recovery. He’s broken at least half a dozen bones, has a punctured lung, and a massive concussion. They were able to repair the internal hemorrhaging, and they’re keeping him sedated and on a ventilator for now.”

“Oh lord, the poor boy,” Natalie murmured. She then paused to consider her caller, “Wait a minute, Ronnie, it’s barely after eight in the morning here. That means it has to be at least-”

“Three a.m. here, yeah, I know,” Ronnie sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Have you gotten any sleep at all?”

“A little, here and there, while waiting on Matt to come out of surgery,” he admitted.

“Ronnie, get some rest,” she gently ordered him. “You’re no good to us or Matt if you’re dead on your feet.”

“I’ll do my best, Gov,” he acquiesced.

“You do that. And give him our best when he wakes up.”

“Will do,” he added before hanging up the phone. He sighed once more; it had been a long night, and there was more yet to come.


	4. Chapter 4

Natalie hung up her cell and turned back to George Castle, head of the CPS. Before he had a chance to ask what the problem was, Alesha Phillips came in with a stack of files that she sat on George’s desk. She saw the grim look on Natalie’s face, and realized that something had happened.

“What is it?” Alesha asked.

“There’s been an accident,” Natalie said slowly. “It’s Matt.”

“Is he all right?” Alesha asked, afraid of the answer.

“Ronnie said he’s in bad shape, but that the doctors are optimistic.”

“The poor lad,” George said softly. “Is there anything we can do?”

“Yeah,” Natalie said with a firm voice. “Help the Yanks nail this bastard.”

Alesha quietly excused herself and returned to her desk. James looked up when she walked in, and became concerned when he noticed the blank expression on her face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Matt was in a car accident,” was all she offered.

“Is he all right?” James asked, worried now not only about Alesha, but for his young detective friend as well.

“Natalie said he’s in bad shape, that’s all I know.”

James watched as she typed furiously on her computer. After a few minutes, she printed off several pages and switched the computer off. His confusion escalated when she gathered her things to leave.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I need to take a few days off,” she said.

“Alesha, what are you going to do?” he asked her softly.

“I have to-” was all she got out before the tears managed to escape.

James stood and swiftly took her into his arms, holding her close as she cried. He had suspected that Alesha’s feelings for Matt ran deeper than simple friendship, but this confirmed it. He sent up a prayer that Matt would be okay, partly because he would deeply regret the loss of his friend and greatly because he feared what it would do to his partner.

“Matt’s strong, he’ll be okay,” James reassured her. He then thought back to her computer printouts. “What time’s your flight?”

“Um, eleven forty-five,” she replied, pulling back and drying her tears.

“That’s cutting it close,” he noted. “Go home and pack. I’ll pick you up and take you to the airport at ten thirty. Think that’ll give you enough time?”

She nodded, and he smiled softly, “Good. Go on. I’ll tell George you’re taking a few days off.”

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

She grabbed her jacket and purse and walked out, leaving James standing in their office. He had no idea what awaited her in America, but he hoped what she found would ease her nerves.

* * *

Ronnie returned to Matt’s side, dozing off and on for the next few hours. Matt began showing signs of waking up at around eight, his eyes moving slightly under his eyelids. A little before nine, Ronnie went to check on Tony, who was more than ready to get out of there.

“I see you’re feeling better,” Ronnie told him.

“He thinks if he causes too much trouble, the doctors will let him out earlier,” Ziva pointed out, surprising Ronnie that she was still there.

“I’m fine, I don’t see what good three more hours is gonna do,” Tony whined. He then leveled a gaze at Ronnie. “How’s Matt?” he asked, managing to keep his voice level.

“Doc said he has a broken arm, collarbone, and ribs, major concussion, and punctured lung,” Ronnie told them. “They’re keeping him on a ventilator, for now. On the bright side, they say he should make a full recovery, and he’s showing signs of waking up, soon.”

“That’s good,” Tony nodded.

Ziva noticed the haunted look from before creep back into his eyes. While she had hoped he could deal with it on his own, this was Tony she was talking about, and he avoided anything emotional. She just hoped he would make it through the case before cracking under the pressure.

Ronnie stayed for a bit longer before returning to Matt’s room. He had been there for half an hour when he saw Matt begin to stir.

“Matty? Come on, Matt, show me those pretty blue eyes,” Ronnie softly coaxed him.

Slowly, Matt blinked his eyes open. A confused look clouded his features as he looked around, replaced by panic as he felt the tube down his throat.

“Easy, Matt, leave it be,” Ronnie told him as he started clawing at the ventilator tube. “You’re in the hospital, and you have a punctured lung. Let the doctor have a look at you, first. Okay?”

That seemed to calm Matt some, or at least, he stopped trying to pull the pipe from his throat. The doctor came in, at that point, and smiled when she saw that Matt was awake.

“Well, this is a good sign,” she said. “Let’s have a look at you, and then we’ll see if we can take that tube out of your throat. Okay?”

Matt nodded, and she began to check his various injuries. She seemed pleased with what she saw, and after another check on his vitals, she spoke again.

“Everything looks good, so far. I’m gonna go get a nurse, and we’ll have that pipe out in no time.”

Within minutes, the doctor came back, a nurse tailing. They shut off the ventilator and went about preparing to remove the tube.

“All right, Matt, I want you to breath out as hard as you can. Ready, blow.”

Matt heaved out a breath as the doctor removed the tube. Once it was out, he coughed several times, his throat raw from the friction the tube had caused.

“Don’t try to talk for a while,” the doctor cautioned him. “Give your throat a chance to heal. Get plenty of rest and drink plenty of water. I’ll be back to check on you in a little while. If everything looks good, we should be able to move you to a private room by tonight.”

Ronnie smiled at that, and looked at Matt as the doctor left, “Hear that, Matty? You’ll be as good as new in no time.”

Matt offered a weak smile, exhaustion-induced sleep overcoming him. Ronnie once again sat back in his chair, satisfied for the first time that his young friend would be all right.

* * *

Tony eased back into his clothes, glad to be finally free of the hospital. He had had a fear of ever being admitted again after getting the plague, and the claustrophobia had set in over the past few hours. He had a desperate need to get outside and breathe air that wasn’t saturated with disinfectant.

Slowly, so as to not jar his body, he left the ward and headed for the exit, just barely missing a woman entering in a flurry. He paid her no attention until he heard her ask the nurse on duty at the intake desk for Matt Devlin.

“You’re looking for Matt?” he asked, turning back.

“Matt Devlin, yes. Do you know where he is?” Alesha asked, giving Tony her full attention.

“He’s up in the ICU,” he said, taking a closer look at her. “You must be Alesha.”

“Yes, how’d you…?”

“Brooks said you’d probably be on the first flight out of Heathrow when you found out what happened,” Tony told her softly.

Just then, Ziva came walking up, ready to take Tony home, “You ready to go?”

“No, I decided that I like it so much here, I’d like to take up permanent residence. What do you think?” he snapped.

Ziva managed to not flinch at his harsh tone. She knew he didn’t like hospitals—an irony that never escaped her during his seduction of Jean Benoit—and that the accident had unsettled him, but she had not expected such a harsh reaction.

“Okay,” she started slowly, “just let me go upstairs and tell Ronnie I’m taking you home. Then we’ll leave, all right?”

Taking a deep breath, Tony nodded.

“Ronnie’s here?” Alesha asked, alerting Ziva to her presence.

Ziva nodded, “As far as I know, he hasn’t left Matt’s side, except to call London.”

“I was there, when he called Natalie, his boss,” Alesha said. “When Natalie said there’d been an accident and Matt was hurt, I… well, I had to come and see for myself.” She noted the bruises and cuts on Tony’s face. “You were in the car with him?”

“I was driving,” Tony replied, his voice dropping dangerously low, a tone that Ziva had rarely heard, but always indicated that he was upset.

“Come on, we’ll show you the way up,” Ziva said, nodding towards the elevators.

Alesha nodded and followed. As the elevator rose through the floors to the level the ICU was on, Tony tried not to fidget too much, but the closeness of the elevator was compounded by his earlier edginess, and it was all he could do to not break into a sprint when the elevator doors opened on the ICU floor.

Ziva, who had earlier made the trip up to check on Matt, led the way, Tony and Alesha trailing behind her. Tony slowed his pace as he neared Matt’s room. He knew it was his fault Matt was in there, and he found he couldn’t bring himself to face the consequences of his mistake.

Alesha stepped past him, unaware of what she was walking into. She was unable to hold back the gasp when she saw Matt’s battered body, to say nothing that he was so still, a stark contrast to his usual vibrant self.

Ronnie had been on the brink of sleep when the trio arrived, and Alesha’s gasp roused him. He stood and walked over to her, putting an arm around her shoulders.

“He’ll be all right, love,” he said softly. “I know it looks bad, but the doctors say he should make a full recovery.”

“Ronnie, I’m going to take Tony home, and then Gibbs wants me back at the office,” Ziva said quietly. “If you’d like, you can stay here, or I can drop you off at your hotel, or-”

“No,” he interrupted her. “Now that Alesha’s here, I can leave and not feel guilty about leaving Matty alone. I’ll go with you and we can get back to work.”

“Ronnie, you certainly don’t have to-” Ziva started.

“Oh yes, I do,” he cut her off once again. “This bastard about killed both our partners. I’m not leaving ‘til we have him in cuffs.”

Ziva nodded her assent, and he followed her out of the room, giving Alesha one last squeeze.

Once they were gone, Alesha removed her jacket and laid it on top of her bag, sitting by the door. She then sat in Ronnie’s vacated seat, pulling it closer to Matt’s bed and taking his hand in hers.

“Hey, Matt,” she said softly, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand, “it’s Alesha. I came to make sure you’re all right. Ronnie said you’ll be fine, but I had to see for myself. Don’t make a liar out of him.”


	5. Chapter 5

After being reassured multiple times that he would be okay, Ziva and Ronnie left Tony at home and proceeded to the office. Gibbs and McGee were there, furiously working to make up for the lack of their teammates.

“Hey, how’s Tony?” McGee asked once he saw them enter the bullpen.

“Better,” Ziva answered. “He’s resting at home. What do we have?”

“I managed to get a hold of Doral’s bank records,” McGee began filling her in. “He was clever. I traced him through four different banks, but I managed to track the payments he made to the hit men. One went to Brenden Chester.”

“We’ve been after him for years, but we’ve never had enough evidence to charge him,” Ronnie added. “We suspect he’s behind at least a dozen murders.”

“Looks like you’ve got him now,” Gibbs piped up.

“Another payment went to Dan Stetler,” McGee continued. “Metro PD picked him up two days ago on an assault charge, and he’s still in their custody.”

“It can’t be that easy,” Ziva said, in disbelief that the case could be wrapped up so neatly.

“Unfortunately, you’re right. There was a third payment that went out yesterday. I haven’t been able to track it down, yet, but it’s safe to say that Doral hired someone to go after Tony and Devlin. Abby’s been going over the car all night.”

Just then, Gibbs’ phone rang.

“Yeah… On my way. Abby’s got something,” he said, hanging up.

The other three needed no encouragement, and they followed Gibbs down to the lab. Abby’s music greeted them as soon as they stepped off the elevator.

“What’ve you got, Abbs?” Gibbs asked over the music.

“I got prints!” she said, excitedly. “This guy was no professional. He left prints all over the car. Most of them were smudged, but I managed to find a clear partial set on the rearview mirror. Meet Jake Allen. He has a DUI from ten years ago, but other than that, he’s clean. However, he is way deep in debt, nearing two hundred grand. He’s maxed out five credit cards, is several months behind on his payments, and was about to be evicted from his apartment.”

“So he’s desperate for cash,” Ziva concluded.

“You said ‘was’?” Ronnie asked.

“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars was transferred into his account, yesterday, and he’s been dispersing it amongst the various debt collectors that have been hounding him.”

“Sounds like a payoff to me. Do we have any idea what he’s been spending his money on?” Gibbs asked as McGee stepped up to the other computer.

“Looks like he’s been sending every penny he can to Georgetown University Medical Center,” McGee answered.

“He’s sick?” Gibbs asked.

“No, the payments are for his sister, Lydia Allen.”

“There’s irony for you,” Ronnie muttered.

“Find him, bring him in,” Gibbs ordered.

“Oh, I already found him,” Abby interrupted. “He’s at a Starbucks on the corner of Lincoln and Fifth.”

“Good work, Abbs,” Gibbs said, pressing a kiss to the side of her head as she grinned in triumph.

* * *

McGee stood in the observation room watching as Jake Allen sat nervously on the other side of the two-way mirror in the interrogation room. If they needed further evidence of his involvement in the wreck, his mug shot would have been enough, his face still red and swollen from impact with his car’s airbag. They’d also found footage of him fleeing the crash on foot from several nearby traffic and security cameras.

“So, how’s Tony?” McGee asked Ziva who was standing next to him.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” she admitted. “He says he’s fine, but I can tell something’s bothering him. He couldn’t get out of the hospital fast enough, and he wouldn’t go with us into the ICU to check on Matt before we left.”

“Well, after what happened to him six years ago, I’m not surprised he’s not fond of hospitals,” McGee noted.

“It’s more than that,” Ziva said. “It’s like he feels responsible for what happened.”

She was stopped from continuing by Gibbs and Ronnie entering the interrogation room. Jake began squirming even more. Gibbs sat at the table, opening the folder in his hands, printouts of Allen’s bank records and photos of evidence from the crash.

“What does NCIS want with me?” Jake asked, trying but failing to not sound nervous.

“You were in a car crash yesterday,” Gibbs stated.

“Uh, yeah, I backed into my neighbor’s Jeep,” Jake tried to cover; again, far from convincing.

“Funny, I didn’t know air bags deployed if you back into something,” Ronnie said. “We have CCTV footage of you running away from a crash at the intersection of Fifth and K Streets just off the Navy Yard at approximately six thirty, yesterday evening. You’re fortunate to walk away from one that bad. My partner wasn’t so lucky.”

Jake swallowed hard, color draining from his face. He knew he was sunk. The only question now was if he could dig himself out of this hole.

“He said he’d pay me enough to clear my debts,” he said sorrowfully. “I didn’t see any other way out. I was at the end of my rope. My sister’s treatments are gonna cost another fifty grand, and I’ve destroyed my credit trying to scrape together the payments. No one in their right mind would give me another penny. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You said, ‘he.’ You’re referring to Commander Doral?” Gibbs clarified.

Jake nodded, “He was good friends with my uncle. He called me a couple days ago said he’d need a favor, and that if I did it, he’d pay me enough to clear my debts and finish paying for my sister’s treatments. I got a call from him yesterday. He said he needed me to head off some people who were trying to frame him. All I needed to do was wait at a certain intersection, then hit them as they went through it. I swear, I had no idea there were cops in the car.”

The restraint had been lifted, and Jake was ready to tell them anything, which he did. Everything from when he received the first call from Doral to where he had gone to lick his wounds after the crash. Jake was no criminal, he was simply at the end of his rope. In fact, he even offered to testify against Doral, once he found out what the commander had been up to. It was all Gibbs could do not to laugh at the young man’s eagerness to do anything he could to right his wrongs.

Gibbs left after half an hour with Jake, returning shortly with a transcript of his confession to sign, which Jake did without even bothering to look at the other pages. He was an upstanding citizen, and he was appalled that he had committed such an offense.

McGee called Metro PD to collect Jake, but that he was willing to take a plea deal and testify in trial against a Navy commander. He hung up the phone with a smile; they now had everything they needed to nail Doral’s ass to the floor. They had Adam Collins’ collected evidence of Doral’s treason, bank records showing payments to the assassins, and Jake’s testimony of assault on federal officers, there would be little left for Doral to use to weasel out of a conviction.

McGee and Ziva returned to the bullpen after hearing Jake spill his guts, but they stopped in their tracks when they saw Tony sitting at his desk, typing away at his computer as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“What are you doing here?” McGee asked, looking at him warily.

Ziva had said Tony was out of it, but that was apparently an understatement. The Tony he knew would have taken full advantage of the time off, and probably made a trip up to Atlantic City. By no means would he be sitting at his desk.

“I’m working, what does it look like?” Tony asked sharply.

McGee and Ziva shared a look. Both were now thoroughly concerned, but neither knew what to say, so they left him. They returned to their respective desks and began preparing everything needed to hand over to JAG for Doral’s court martial.

Gibbs returned after finishing with Jake, and took one look at Tony before continuing on to the elevator.

“DiNozzo,” he barked, walking past the younger man’s desk.

“Yes, boss,” Tony said, following as quickly as his sore ribs would allow.

Gibbs called up the elevator and punched the button for the ground level once inside. Two floors down, he hit the emergency stop button, halting their descent and turning on the blue emergency lights. He simply stared at Tony, and Tony knew exactly what his boss was thinking.

“I’m fine,” he protested weakly. “There’s no need for me to stay at home. I can do my job perfectly well. I’m fine,” he reiterated.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow, and before Tony could react, he reached out his hand and poked Tony in the side. Tony gasped and turtled up, pulling his arms in close and jumping away from Gibbs’ reach.

“You could barely walk from your desk to the elevator without flinching,” Gibbs said. “You’re in no condition to work, Tony, and I will not have you as a liability. Go home. Come back when you’ve healed.”

“Boss, really-”

“What happened was not your fault,” Gibbs said lowly, getting straight to the heart of the matter. Tony had been unable to stay at home because it allowed him too much time to think. Think about how he could have done things differently, how he could have taken a different route, how he could have let Matt drive instead, how many things could have changed. He would be the first to admit that his head was no fun place to be when he got broody, and he needed some sort of distraction. Coming to the office seemed like the best option.

“Any one of us could have been in that car, it just happened to be you and Devlin,” Gibbs continued, unusually talkative but sensing his agent needed the reassurance. “There was nothing you could do, so get over yourself and go home.”

With that, he resumed the elevator’s descent and continued on down to the ground floor. Tony reluctantly got off, and the doors closed, taking Gibbs back up to the bullpen.

Tony walked out of the building and called a cab, having had a cab take him to the office. He eased into the back seat and sat there silently, unsure of what to do.

“Where to, sir?” asked the dark-skinned cabbie.

Tony apparently gave him an address, because the cab pulled away from the building and left the Navy Yard. Sighing, he leaned back into the seat and let his mind drift away. He knew Gibbs was right, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of responsibility.

The cab came to a halt, and Tony looked out his window. A feeling of confusion overcame him for a second until he realized he was back at the hospital. Realizing he needed to do this, he paid the driver and stepped out, wincing as he unfolded his body from the confines of the cab.

He had no idea what to expect, and he spared a thought that he should have seen Matt before he had left earlier. Steeling himself, he took a breath and entered the hospital.

* * *

Matt’s limbs felt heavy as the dense fog of sleep slowly rolled back. His first sense to return was his hearing; the constant beeping he heard keeping in time with his heartbeat led him to believe he was in a hospital, though he didn’t remember how he got there.

He felt a weight holding down his right arm, but something soft held on to his left. Slowly, he managed to open his eyes to narrow slits, enough to see where exactly he was. The cardio monitor to his right proved to be the source of the beeping. To his right, he had to tilt his head down to see what held his left hand down. Even through his swollen eyes, he recognized the dark hair that was fanned out over the bed.

“Alesha?” he croaked, surprised at the hoarseness of his own voice. He vaguely remembered having a tube removed from his throat, and wondered just how long he had been there.

Alesha stirred at the sound. She lifted her head, and relief flooded her face at seeing him awake.

“Matt! Thank heavens you’re awake!” she said, standing and gently placing a hand on his swollen face. “You’ve been asleep for hours. I was getting worried.”

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice losing its frog-like sound as he used it more. “What time is it?”

“Uh, I’m not sure, exactly,” she admitted. “I think about five p.m.”

“Wait, what are you doing here?” he asked as the fog rolled further back.

“Ronnie called this morning, said there had been an accident,” she answered quietly. “James offered to get George to give me some time off. I had to make sure you were all right.”

Though his limited vision prohibited him from seeing the tears welling in her eyes, Matt could hear the fear and concern in Alesha’s voice. Hoping to console her some, he squeezed the hand still holding his.

A coughing coming from the door interrupted them. Alesha looked back to see Tony standing by the door, looking somewhat uncomfortable.

“I thought I’d better check on Matt, but I see he’s all ready occupied,” he tried to joke, but Alesha could see his uneasiness.

“I’m going to see if I can find some tea,” she said, placing a feather-soft kiss against his forehead before leaving the two injured men alone.

Tony considered his options before finally taking the vacated chair. He sat in silence for several minutes before Matt finally spoke.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Peachy, though next to you, I’m the picture of health, so I can’t really complain.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Tony,” Matt said.

“I know.”

And for the first time, he actually believed it.


	6. Chapter 6

It was over a week later when Matt was released from the hospital. It would be several more days before he returned to London, the doctors still uneasy about him flying with a punctured lung. Even so, he was more than ready to be out of there.

Tony was there to pick him up when he was released. It was all he could do to not laugh at the sight he saw walking out of the hospital. The wheelchair Alesha pushed towards him—the nurse’s idea, not Matt’s—bore the grumpiest looking raccoon Tony had ever seen. The swelling in Matt’s face had gone down, but the bruises were still as prominent as ever, leaving him with two black eyes. The sling around his neck hung at an odd angle so as to no aggravate his collarbone, and left his arm hanging in an awkward position. And to top it all off, Matt could hardly bear the indignity of having to be wheeled out in a wheelchair like an invalid when he had two perfectly fine legs, the only part of him that had escaped injury.

“Glad to see your cheery disposition hasn’t been too badly damaged,” Tony chortled.

“Oh, bugger off,” Matt grumbled, standing to go from the wheelchair to the car.

“Hey, play nice,” Alesha admonished, and Tony had to fight even harder to keep the laughter from escaping.

“Yeah, I thought raccoons were supposed to be playful creatures,” Tony said, unable to help himself; he was enjoying this far too much.

“That went for you too, DiNozzo,” Alesha scolded, though the smile on her face belied her seriousness.

“Fine,” Tony sighed in defeat. “Hey, Devlin, think you’re up for a detour before heading to your hotel?” The glare he got was response enough. “Boss wants us to stop by, said he had a surprise for you.”

Matt went to shrug, but winced at the motion and thought better of it. Due to the hour, traffic was relatively light, and the trip to the Naval Yard was quick. Tony parked and led Alesha and Matt into the NCIS building. He went straight up to MTAC, where they found the rest of Tony’s team, Vance, and another man in a brown uniform whom Matt had not met. Ronnie had returned to London several days prior to finish up the case on their end.

“Detective Devlin, it’s good to see you up and about,” Vance said as way of greeting. “Allow me to introduce Major General Cresswell of the Judge Advocate General Corps.”

The man in the brown uniform stepped forward to shake Matt’s good hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet the man responsible for doing what I had thought impossible.”

“What’s that?” Matt asked.

“Getting JAG and the CPS to get along, for once,” Cresswell chuckled. “In light of Amy Collins’ murder in London, I’ve assigned the man over the London JAG office to head the prosecution. Surprisingly, he’s gotten nothing but whole-hearted support from the CPS.”

“You’ve probably got Alesha to thank for that, more than me,” Matt said, deferring the praise.

“All I did was tell James and George they’d bloody well not let Doral get away with anything,” Alesha admitted. “CID and NCIS did all the dirty work.”

McGee, who had been sitting at one of the computers to the side of the room, said, “All right, we’re ready, Director.”

“Put it up,” Vance directed.

On the large screen to the front of the room came a video feed. George, James, Natalie, and Ronnie sat around a conference table with a man in a white U.S. Navy uniform sitting at the head. The four Brits smiled at seeing Matt. The man in white spoke first.

“Director Vance, General,” he greeted.

“Captain Harmon Rabb, head of the London JAG office,” Cresswell introduced.

“I trust everything is going well?” Vance asked.

“Your people did a stand-up job,” Rabb smiled. “Makes mine all the more easy. Gibbs,” he nodded a greeting to the grey-haired NCIS agent.

“Rabb,” Gibbs returned, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “How’s London?”

“I must admit, it’s grown on me. Even the rain.”

Matt watched the exchange with fascination. There was a story with those two, and the look Tony gave him indicated he’d hear it later.

The casual conversation switched to finalizing the last details before Rabb and James, who would be working together on the prosecution, went before a judge. Doral had been arrested and transferred to London, where he would stand trial. Jake would be flown over a week before the trial, and then brought back to the States to serve his reduced sentence. NCIS’s files were in the process of being handed over to JAG, as were CID’s to the CPS, and the two prosecutors should have the last of them by the end of the week.

Matt was thankful when the call ended. He hated to admit it, but it had worn him out, and he had been sitting pretty much the whole time. He politely bid the Director and the General goodbye and followed Tony and Alesha back down to the car, where he allowed himself to sink back into the cushioned seat. Seeing his exhaustion, Tony offered up the name of a good take-out place near the hotel. “It’s cheaper than room service, and they deliver,” he said.

Tony helped Alesha get Matt out of the car, a task the proved difficult without causing too much pain, and followed them up to their room to make sure they got there all right. He left promising to return the next day with what he called, “The best burgers this side of heaven.”

Once Tony was gone, Matt melted into the oddly comfortable mattress—though, after over a week in a hospital bed, he imagined the floor of the MIU office would be comfortable.

“Can I get you anything?” Alesha asked, laying her jacket over the back of one of the chairs.

“You’ve already done more than enough,” he told her, fighting to stay awake just a little longer. “Alesha, why’d you stay?”

She paused before answering. Should she tell him the truth, or feed him the line she’d fed everyone else? The truth, she decided, he deserved that much. She sat next to him on the bed, taking a breath before she spoke.

“I needed to make sure you’d be all right. I care about you, Matt.”

Something Tony had said earlier drifted back into Matt’s mind, “ _I’ve let women slip through my fingers, for various reasons. Mostly, though, it comes down to the fact that I can be an idiot where women are concerned. I’ve seen how Alesha looks at you, Matt, and how you look at her. I’m not sure if it’s head-over-heels love, but there is definitely something there. So I just have one thing to say: don’t be an idiot._ ”

Deciding that Tony was right, Matt reached his good arm out to Alesha and pulled her toward him. As best he could with one arm, he pulled her in for a soft kiss. He could tell she was shocked, but that soon passed, and she kissed him back.

When he pulled back, Alesha smiled, “I was wondering how long it would take you to do that.”

Matt started to chuckle, but he grimaced at the pain it caused in his chest. There was little he could do in his current condition, but when they were back in London and he had healed, he intended to show Alesha the time of her life—dinner, dancing, and a whole lot more. But for now, he would settle for lying there with her curled up against him, his good arm wrapped around her.

The case hadn’t turned out so bad after all.

 

_Fin._


End file.
